


#8 Where did everybody go?

by TemporaryDysphoria



Series: TD's Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Not by choice, Whumptober 2020, abandoned, but by explosion, this is your classic everyone died but there's one survivor fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporaryDysphoria/pseuds/TemporaryDysphoria
Summary: Light travels faster than sound, and Zenigata hates that that is the only thing running through his head.Day 8 of Whumptober 2020: Prompt was #Abandoned.This is a Part (1). Will link Part (2) when I upload it.
Series: TD's Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947205
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	#8 Where did everybody go?

Light travels faster than sound. Zenigata learned that on three separate occasions. 

The first time he learnt it was in elementary school, in science class. There was a dottery old man for a teacher, a dumbed down experiment for nine-year-olds and a big diagram on the chalkboard. 

The second time he learnt it was when he was in the police academy, getting his license to carry. He’d been in the force three weeks and it was drilled into him, just like his martial arts, just like the laws, just like the justice. 

_ By the time you hear the gunshot, the bullet is already at you. _

The third time he learnt it. 

The third time he learnt it, he didn’t want to know. 

He’s in the control room of the ICPO, watching CCTV cameras. It wasn’t where he wanted to be, but he’d snapped his ankle in a scuffle with Goemon and had come off second best. So he was grounded, arms folded over a crutch, wishing he was anywhere but here while Yata got the privilege of engaging in a high speed chase with Lupin. 

Jigen takes a swift turn to the right and Zenigata swallows down a grumble. He was heading for the suburbs, where the streets were more narrow, where he knew the police would have a harder time catching him. He’d probably have that sly grin on his face, the one that he gives Zenigata whenever he speeds past him out of nowhere, ready to stand in his way. That arrogant, cocksure, lopsided smile that  _ should _ look ugly, but it suits the lanky gunman. 

_ Not the time for that Koichi. _

There’s a small commotion as the men struggle to find the next camera. Zenigata already has his eyes on the small yellow car, already has Yata on speed dial. He knows these thieves better than any of them. 

“They’re going to head for the bridge.” He says, not even waiting to hear his subordinates greeting. 

“How do you?” Yata starts, “Never mind-”

Zenigata hears him pass the instructions on before returning. 

“Are they all still in the car?”

Zenigata squints. The picture is grainy, but he can make out the still figure on the roof, Goemon. One of these days the kid is going to fall, and get turned into mincemeat if he keeps that nonsense up. Jigen’s driving, he can tell by the movements, and that means it must be Lupin’s arm in the passenger window. No Fujiko, unless she’s in the back of the car. 

He runs a quick glance over the surrounding cameras, looking for the telltale sign of either a bike, or another vehicle that might house the gangs resident femme fatale. 

“Three of ‘em are accounted for. Can’t see Fujiko.”

Yata mumbles an affirmative and hangs up, leaving Zenigata feeling empty and useless. He squints some more, pulls his body and his bad leg closer to the screens. A small part of him hopes they get away. It just wouldn’t be right, for someone other than Zenigata to catch them. It’s tradition at this point. 

Yatas pixelated car makes a sharp turn on the screen. At least the boy listens. 

There’s movement behind him. The commissioner has finally risen from his seat, and is watching the monitors as well. 

“This is going on for too long.”

At first Zenigata doesn’t understand. Yata is slowly gaining on the bright yellow Fiat, although he’s taking less risks than Zenigata would, were he at the wheel. 

“This is becoming a waste of resources,” the commissioner is grumbling behind him, “if they get onto the open road we’ll lose them again and it will all be for nothing. Mobilise the military.”

_ That _ get’s Zenigata’s attention.

“Sir?”

But the commissioner already has his back turned, and the sight of it sends something uncomfortable spiralling down Zenigata’s spine. 

_ Regret? _

Regret because he knows that if the military is involved he won’t get his chance to catch Lupin once and for all. 

Jealousy because  _ he  _ wants to be the one to do it.

Maybe just a hint of sadness, because if Lupin gets caught for good, it will be the end of an era - an end of two eras. The end of the reign of Lupin the Third, and the end of the ceaseless persistence of Inspector Zenigata. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Yata again. He answers with a grunt. 

“...armoured vehicles sir. Are they ours?”

Zenigata squints at the screen again, trying to catch up. He finds Yata first, the lone squad car ahead of the other ten in the chase. Then he sees the Fiat, well on it’s way towards the bridge that would lead them out of town. Past the bridge though, he can hear even Yata’s sharp intake of breath as he rounds the corner. His own breath stuck in his throat, he watches. 

The Fiat is in the middle of the bridge when it happens. 

There’s a screech of tires from the tiny phone speaker and Yata curses. Then he curses again. It becomes the longest stream of consecutive cuss words Zenigata has ever heard from the man. 

The light of the explosion had been present for nearly four whole seconds before Zenigata heard the thunderous noise that accompanied it - made artificially tinny through cheap speakers. 

“What the fuck?” 

Yata’s words are soft, but Zenigata can hear the tension underneath them. 

Suddenly feeling remarkably disconnected he turns to see if the Commissioner has paid any attention to the scene. He’s watching with a blank expression. Now it’s Zenigata’s turn to echo his subordinate. 

“What the fuck...sir.”

He doesn’t even bat an eyelid at the delayed honorific. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures Inspector.”

It’s the bored tone that finally spurs Zenigata into action.

“Are you crazy?” He can feel his tone getting louder, but with Yata’s muttered curses in his ear and the sirens, he simply can’t be bothered to care. “There could have been  _ people _ on that bridge!  _ Civilians! _ ”

“It was a calculated risk.”

Zenigata is too shocked to answer. He is, for once, at a complete loss for words. 

The commissioner pays him no heed and turns back towards his desk. Yata is speaking to someone, his voice muffled. Zenigata is wading through water, figuratively of course, but it feels literal. With the wreckage on the screen and Yata’s voice in his ear the reality is beginning to set in. That this is bad. That this might not just be the end of an era, it’s probably the end of a life.

Multiple lives. 

He can hear ambulance sirens, the sound of footsteps and then for a few tense moments it’s silence. 

“You there Yata?”

“Yes sir, just waiting for the medics.”

Zenigata grunts, and waits, and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he’s stuck up here when he should be on the ground. Minutes seem like hours until he finally hears a voice that isn’t Yata.

“Three deceased at the scene Officer. One female, two males. Their wounds are incompatible with life. One is in a critical condition, he must have been launched from the vehicle through the windscreen. We’re going to be transporting him shortly once he’s stable. If you can arrange the coroner for the others…”

The voice fades away and Yata’s affirmative is loud in Zenigata’s ear. 

Three deceased. 

_ The end of an era. _

Three of the worst and best people he’s ever known, gone up in smoke - quite literally. Three people that he knows better than his own family at this point and yet he can’t make a noise because he’s on the clock - and to do so now, would bring down the full wrath of the ICPO and for what?

_ Light travels faster than sound, and Zenigata hates that that is the only thing running through his head. _

It’s only when he hears the sound of sirens getting closer in his ear that he thinks. When his brain catches up and he realises, with growing anxiety that there’s a question he needs answered.

“Yata?”

“Yes sir?”

“Who survived?”

* * *

Zenigata had never liked hospitals. They were too sterile. Too white. And they always smelled like disinfectant. 

He’s waiting. He’s been waiting for days, but staring at the crash-torn bodies of three thieves has given him a new amount of patience. Lupin won’t be coming back from this one. He knows this deep down, but part of it still doesn’t seem real. The only way he can make it real is if he tells someone else - witnesses someone else's reaction to justify his own pain. And so he waits outside this hospital room because he doesn’t know if the man inside even has any family left who’d care to visit, and Zenigata can’t find it in him to leave him to wake up to the news with no-one at his side. . 

_ Criminal or not, no-one should face that alone.  _

The nurse comes out with a sad smile and gives him a brief nod. 

“He’s on his way to waking up.”

Jigen looks small on the hospital bed. Too small for a man who’s at least as tall as Zenigata himself when he stands upright. Zenigata can’t quite reconcile this image of Jigen in a hospital gown with the same dangerous criminal he knows him to be. He fiddles with the edge of a tattered hat. Yata had brought it in from the scene and given it to him on the sly. He was a good kid, Yata. 

Jigen stirs a little, and opens a bleary eye. He’s fascinating to watch in action. His gaze moves up first, then to the window, then to the door - mapping the room as mechanically and automatically as any police officer. He takes stock of where he is and fixes his gaze on Zenigata as he tries to lever himself up, before dropping back onto the pillows with a groan. 

“Hey Pops. Are you here to arrest a man while he’s wounded?”

Jigen’s gravelly voice stirs something in Zenigatas chest. A brief realisation that he’s never going to hear that unique combination of lilting laughter and gruff chuckling as two thieves outsmart him leaves him feeling like he’s been punched in the chest. 

Jigen squints at him, likely realising the answer is too long in coming. He glances around again, looking for signs of his companions. 

“Pops…” he starts warily, “Where’s everyone else?”

Zenigata opens his mouth and finds himself suddenly devoid of words. Jigen’s only a tiny bit slower than usual on the uptake, courtesy of the pain drugs. 

“Are they…” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence. It hangs between them like a foul omen. The silence stretches out and he can feel Jigen’s gaze on him. 

It’s like a band-aid, he tells himself. Just rip it off now, and it’ll be easier. Just rip it off. Rip it off. Rip it -

“You’re the only one left.”

Jigen’s mouth sets in a hard line. Zenigata lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. 

“Leave,” the gunman says curtly. 

“Jigen, I’m -”

“I don’t want or need your apologies. You’ve said your piece. Now leave.”

He can’t argue with a face that looks like it could cut stone. He’s just about at the door when Jigen speaks again. 

“Pops.”

“Hmm?” 

“I’ll take my hat.” Jigen pauses while Zenigata turns and takes the few short steps to the bedside. 

“Thanks,” he says, as the precious item is placed on his lap. Thin fingers reach for the brim and as soon as they hit fabric they start to worry at it, exactly like Zenigata was doing on the way in. 

The sight sends a sharp pang through his chest. 

“You can go,” Jigen says and Zenigata gives him a brief nod. 

He walks towards the door, and he pretends, for both of their sakes, that he doesn’t hear the hiccup of a barely concealed sob as he closes the door. 


End file.
